


Pot without Playstation

by minhyukwithagun (deadlylampshades)



Category: GOT7, Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Video & Computer Games, With Like A Certain Amount of Plot, just guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-04-24 06:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19167502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlylampshades/pseuds/minhyukwithagun
Summary: The TV is mocking them with its black, vacant screen. It laughs at their misery, itenjoysit. No, Mark is not overreacting. It's just… he's not used to the lights off. That's all. He places the useless controller down on the table in front of him, sinks into the couch and finally turns to face Minhyuk. He hadn't realized he'd been staring at him this whole time."You know, I don't think I ever looked at you properly before," Minhyuk says. "I never realized how like. Beautiful your eyes are. Not like in a gay way though." And then he pauses. Surveys Mark. Adds: "Actually, kinda in a gay way."





	Pot without Playstation

**Author's Note:**

> i have no words for this! i don't need words, there's enough here! 8k of them, complete with copious amount of game references and an obsession with lava lamps!

Mark’s always had a complex relationship with the dark, and it stems from the fact that his name rhymes with the word. And frankly, when it comes down to it, he’s not really a fan of the park either.

But back to the nighttime sky. He’s not scared of it, obviously, he’s not twelve years old anymore, he doesn’t need his Pikachu plushie _or_ a blankie to fall asleep. He _chooses_ to have those things, but it’s by no means a necessity — he just appreciates a little bit of decoration in his bedroom that’s beyond the posters of D.Va on the ceiling. He’s got a nightlight, but it’s like really cool and slick, it’s a lava lamp, and Mark’s wanted one his entire life, ever since Jackson got one in the fourth grade and wouldn't stop bragging to everyone. So yeah, the second he got his own place, he bought one, and it’s black and red and it looks so _hardcore_.

Well, he thinks it’s hardcore. Minhyuk finds it pretty cool as well. And that’s all that really matters. Minhyuk’s got a really good eye for these kind of things. He’s always dressed in some trendy paisley shirt and sometimes he sits on the kitchen counter and says things like " _we're into bamboo straws nowadays_ ". Mark doesn't know who the "we" in that sentence is but assumes it's the guys from Queer Eye, because Minhyuk certainly talks about them like they're his friends. Mark's a bit sad about that. He wishes he was friends with those guys too, they seem cool and they're on TV but he guesses they maybe wouldn't like that his wardrobe consists only of oversized hoodies and boxer briefs.

The thing about the dark that Mark doesn’t like, besides the actual darkness part, is what it represents. No, not that emo bullshit about death or whatever. When the lights are off, it means the power is off, and if the power is off, that means Mark’s will to live fades faster than his cellphone battery after one round of Candy Crush.

He’s a good citizen. He pays his electricity bill. He files his tax returns. He doesn’t deserve power outages, and he has half a mind to complain to someone important if he wasn't abundantly aware how inept call centres are, intimately familiar with them as a result of his own job. Well, regardless, he can't make the power company be nice to him. That means when he gets the letter from his landlord informing him of ‘routine maintenance’ and the subsequent electricity disruption all Mark can do is sip his bitch juice and mope to himself.

That’s what he used to do anyway, but things have been different since he met Minhyuk. He’s never had a gamer friend before, you know? All this time he assumed _starboyminhyuk_ was just another faceless friend across the world with strong opinions on the sexual orientation of Master Chief. He wasn't _real_. It was a chance encounter involving abuse of the McDonald’s Wi-Fi to conduct a League of Legends match when Mark learnt that the aforementioned starboy was not living under some rock in rural Europe, rather, he stayed two blocks away and recognized him as the man ordering twenty Chicken Nuggets.

“I’m a paralegal,” Minhyuk informed him, blowing a bubble and immediately popping it. Despite the gum in his mouth, he had no issues helping himself to Mark’s french fries. “Do you know what that is?”

“I can’t say I do,” Mark said.

“It’s cool, I don’t really think I know what it is either,” Minhyuk shrugged. He’s got light hair, but it’s so shaggy. Reminds Mark of a poodle. “But it means I don’t get paid enough to have a big TV. Do you have a big TV?”

The bluntness of the question had flustered Mark. “Uh.”

“It’s a simple question, Marcus, how big is your TV?”

White noise fills his mind but luckily Minhyuk didn’t mind, not while he got the full opportunity to fulfill his french fry harvesting dreams. “It’s, um, 48 inches? Is that big?”

“It’s not about how big it is, honey, it’s how you use it,” Minhyuk said, nodding knowingly.

“But you just told me you wanted a big TV—”

He paused, midway through biting through a fry. He looked up, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s a joke, _oh my God_ , I swear you’re smarter online but you’re cuter in person. This is a difficult trade-off to handle.”

They got kicked out of the McDonald’s for abuse of their internet facilities shortly before Mark could decompress that statement but the end result seemed to be: _Big TV Good_. And that’s just how it went. All the hours gaming together didn't really change except instead of playing online, Minhyuk deposited himself on Mark’s couch. And honestly, it’s kind of nice.

Minhyuk’s funny, for one, he’s absolutely _hilarious_. Even when he was just an avatar of Sub-Zero from Mortal-Kombat in a flower crown, Minhyuk’s comments were part of the reason Mark had grown so fond of him so quickly. Though, Mark has to note, when they were playing online, he had a volume rocker on his headphones that could dampen his siren shrieks. He does not have such a device in real life. His ears are maybe suffering for it. But it’s fine. It’s cool.

It’s worth it, really. Minhyuk is just _so_ great.

“You left me alone and I ate everything in your fridge,” Minhyuk announces, his feet draped over the side of the couch. He's balancing the PS4 controller on his stomach, pressing his hand on the buttons, causing his player character to walk aimlessly in circles.

“I only went to the bathroom,” Mark replies mildly, “And I didn’t go grocery shopping yet, the only thing that was in there was a packet of ketchup and a lettuce leaf.”

“Yeah,” Minhyuk says, wiping the red stain off his mouth. “Anyway, come on, are you ready? I’m itching for this raid. I texted Changkyun and Hongbin and they’re ready to go when we are.”

Mark nods. “Definitely. You got the drinks by you?”

“Hell yes.” Minhyuk really overdresses for video games honestly, there’s no need to wear eyeliner to sit on another man’s couch and manhandle a piece of plastic for three hours straight, but Minhyuk does anyway. And well, Mark’s kinda grateful. He appreciates a pretty face, and Minhyuk’s face is among the prettiest.

He just looks like a very nice cat is all, but don’t get mistaken, Mark is no furry.

Mark quickly dispels these thoughts, shoving Minhyuk’s feet away and sitting next to him, fully prepared to fuse the lower half of his body into the couch for the next six hours. See, it’s a good thing he took that bathroom break.

“Let’s do this,” Minhyuk says, eyes glinting.

 

Mark isn’t good at a lot of things. He has trouble making friends, pretty much just sticks to his primary school bestie Jackson, even though Jackson’s been currently travelling the world with an older man claiming him to be his ‘business partner’. Mark’s never the smartest in the room, and his humour was once described by Minhyuk as a monkey smoking a cigarette: it’s kinda funny right until it starts being disturbing. 

But what Mark is good at, is video games. They don’t call him the hard carry for nothing. He’s just got a sixth sense for these kind of things. Can just predict where a grenade will fire, knows the exact moment to duck to avoid a sniper rifle, and always makes the right call whether to equip his shotgun or his heavy pistol.

He’s never been much of a leader until he has a controller in his hands, but and then when he does? He’s impeccable. And then he’s merciless. He’s left Minhyuk’s player character to die in a building that Mark blew up himself, even as Minhyuk sat next to him, whining the whole time. Didn’t matter though. His team still won. Minhyuk forgave him after Mark hand fed him Dorito’s anyway.

This raid is no exception. The four of them work in perfect agreement, and Mark barks orders over his mic, occasionally glancing over at his teammate in the seat next to him.

“I might actually come when this raid ends,” Mark murmurs. He used a brief moment of respite to strap on his wrist brace, and he was glad he did — this mission is taking much longer than he initially planned but oh, the loot when they succeed is going to be legendary in all senses of the term.

“I would not blame you there, my friend,” Minhyuk says, launching a grenade at the monster that spawns in front of them. “ _Fuck_ , that was my last one.”

Splatters of monster fill the screen. Mark’s legs start to protest from disuse but he ignores the feeling of pins and needles, leaning closer to the screen. “It’s chill, I’ve got the upgrade that lets me have another slot,” Mark replies.

“I wasn’t eager on having Hongbin back in the squad after the last disaster but he’s really pulling his weight,” Minhyuk comments, covering the mic with his other hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark can see a vein popping in his forehead. “Just the final boss, right? Then we’re done.”

“Yeah,” Mark nods. “Are you gonna crash here for the night?”

“Hell yes, there’s no way I can walk home after all this stimulation. Pretty sure I’ll see a red light and instinctively body roll into the street. Get crushed by a steam roller.” Mark doesn’t really think that’s all that likely just judging by the amount of steam rollers he sees in his daily life (none), but gets where Minhyuk is coming from more or less.

It’s not anything meaningful or indicative of a deeper relationship when Minhyuk stays over. He crashes on his couch sometimes, especially when they’re up late with their squad on the other side of the world. It’s convenient. And yeah, maybe when Mark wakes up in the morning and sees Minhyuk curled up in the couch, hair messy, face flushed with serenity, something weird happens to his heart, but Mark always assumed that was his body giving out because of all the Monster he drinks on a daily basis. It doesn’t mean anything. And neither does this.

But Mark does make a mental note to wake up a little earlier tomorrow so he can duck down to the bakery across the road and get some of those muffins Minhyuk likes for breakfast.

“Hey Marcus?” Minhyuk says, knocking Mark’s knee with his own, a maniacal grin upon his face. “Changkyun and Hongbin are in position. You still got that grenade?”

“You betcha,” Mark says. He pauses for a moment to orientate himself, and decisively hits the right trigger.

The animation in this game is so beautiful. His player character raises her hand, the grenade soaring through the air, pointed right at this ugly motherfucker with a belly bigger than his health bar guarding the arena, and just as it’s about to explode into a cloud of shrapnel—

Mark’s first thought is that his eyes have stopped working. That perhaps they’ve fallen out of his head, or something equally strange. It’s certainly a more plausible explanation than the TV turning off. That wouldn’t happen. That can’t happen. That’s not how things work.

“Uh. Mark.”

Mark ignores the person next to him. Staring straight ahead. The room’s gotten a lot darker. They have the curtains drawn so they could see the screen better, and the dwindling afternoon sun streams through, filtered, like improperly made coffee.

“Mark.”

The controller is stuck to Mark’s hand by a mixture of sweat and his own muscles refusing to let go. He presses the trigger button again, just you know, to see. It doesn’t do anything. Probably because the TV is off.

“ _Marcus_!”

“You know that’s not my name, right?” Mark snaps, turning to face Minhyuk.

“Easy, kitten,” Minhyuk says, and raises his hands in surrender. “What’s going on?”

The delirious haze lifts from Mark’s eyes. He tries not to think about how he just sort of yelled at Minhyuk. He doesn’t do that often. “I think… I think. Well. To start. The TV’s off.”

“Have I mentioned how sexy I found your big brain? It’s definitely one of your best features,” Minhyuk states. “Please, tell me more about the obvious.”

Minhyuk’s kind of a dick sometimes. It’s fine that he is. Mark doesn’t mind. But it should be said. “Look, I don’t know… it’s the electricity, isn’t it?”

“I’d say so,” Minhyuk says staring up. The ceiling fan mournfully completes one final and slow revolution before halting entirely. “Your power went off.”

“My power went off. In the middle of the biggest raid we’ve done in weeks,” Mark says, voice growing increasingly high-pitched. Oh, he was going to kill his building manager in real life. “That’s… that’s really something, isn’t it.”

It’s hard to see Minhyuk’s facial expression, because Mark is still very fastidiously  looking straight ahead, as if it’s possible to intimidate the TV into switching on using his latent telepathic powers alone. Even so, through his peripheral vision, he can discern Minhyuk peering right at him.

“Mark, are you okay? Like I’m also upset, don’t get me wrong, but you literally haven’t blinked in like a minute.”

“I don’t think I need to move ever again,” Mark says faintly. “Minhyuk, we were literally minutes away from beating him, I had just used my grenade—”

“Shh, it’s okay kitten,” Minhyuk murmurs, and Mark feels a hand over his own, and almost recoils in shock, until he realizes it’s Minhyuk removing his wrist brace. “Look, yeah, it’s shitty. But there’ll be other raids. I guess. Won’t be _this_ raid. But there’ll be other ones!”

“Yeah. Yeah. I mean. I guess,” Mark says vaguely. His heart feels empty. Like there’s a hole in his chest, and everything’s just poured out. Like he’s a light that can’t turn on.

The TV is mocking them with its black, vacant screen. It laughs at their misery, it _enjoys_ it. No, Mark is not overreacting. It's just… he's not used to the lights off. That's all. He places the useless controller down on the table in front of him, sinks into the couch and finally turns to face Minhyuk. He hadn't realized he'd been staring at him this whole time.

"You know, I don't think I ever looked at you properly before," Minhyuk says. "I never realized how like. Beautiful your eyes are. Not like in a gay way though." And then he pauses. Surveys Mark. Adds: "Actually, kinda in a gay way."

The tips of Mark’s ears tinge pink. But he knows better than to trust Minhyuk’s flirting, he’s heard in-person the things Minhyuk says when he’s on voice chat with his teammates. He’d have a career as sex-hotline operator in an alternate reality. “I guess you’re planning on going? It’s still light out.”

“Are you kicking me out, Marcus?” Minhyuk says, his lips curving into a pout. “You’d really throw a poor orphan boy out into the streets? You know I’ve got nowhere to room for the night, sir, I’m desperate.” His voice takes on a high quality, sounding like a squeak. “I can clean if that’s what you’d like, just please don’t leave me in the alleyways where you found me.”

“Minhyuk,” Mark says, and starts to laugh despite myself. “I’m not kicking you out and you’re not a poor orphan boy, you’re richer than I am.” He just spends all his money on bamboo straws instead of things that actually matter. Like big TV’s and lava lamps.

“It’s ‘cause salaries are based on a scaling tariff of attractiveness and I’m a 10. I’m just getting what I deserve. You’re a solid 6. Well,” Minhyuk pauses, running his fingers through Mark’s hair. “The red’s kinda sexy, I’m not gonna lie. So maybe we can push you up a digit.”

Mark has this defense mechanism, where if something doesn’t quite seem like it can compute with his mind, he immediately forgets it happens. So that’s exactly what happens. He hears Minhyuk kind of refer to him as attractive, digests this information and then puts it straight into his mind shredder. “I just assumed you wouldn’t want to stay since the power’s off.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mark. I’m not going to leave you in the dark.” And then, after saying something so sweet that his heart grows two extra sizes, Minhyuk immediately devolves into giggles. “It _rhymes_ , isn’t that delightful.”

“You want to stay?” Mark says. He can’t keep the fondness out of his voice.

“Aww, look at that face, you’re so _cute_ , I just want to keep you in a jar in my room,” Minhyuk says, unable to stop himself from reaching forward and pinching one of Mark’s cheeks. He rubs it between his fingertips, beaming the entire time. “Not a good idea, though, I haven’t fed my goldfish in like two weeks.”

Mark blinks, unsure how to process that. Just aware of how hard Minhyuk pinches. He doesn’t think he’d like to be kept in a jar. But Minhyuk’s room sounds quite interesting from his description, apparently he’s got some interesting collections.

Minhyuk rises to his feet, stretching out his arms. “I’m just gonna take a leak, then do you, I don’t know, wanna play rock paper scissors? Smoke a joint? Make out? All three? Let me know.”

For a moment, Mark wonders how much he’s smoked. It’s the only explanation. But that doesn’t make sense, he hasn’t smoked today, in preparation of this raid. But then, that doesn’t make sense. Minhyuk wouldn’t say that. He wouldn’t say those things. That’s not things Minhyuk said. But Mark has pretty good hearing, though, so… yeah, no, still doesn’t make sense. Minhyuk’s like, the sexiest person alive after Keanu Reeves, and surely he wouldn’t want to play rock, paper, scissors with _Mark_. That’s the only part of the sentence his mind allows him to process but he figures the rest of the sentence is also non-applicable. 

Mark doesn’t realize how long he’s been debating back and forth in his mind until Minhyuk walks back out, wiping his hands on his shorts and frowning. “Why are you still there?”

“I live here?” Mark says mildly.

“No shit, Sherlock, I meant why are you on the couch? Does your weed roll itself?”

Sunset has winked away, and the room grows darker and darker with each minute. “You… don’t smoke,” Mark says. Quietly. Like he isn’t quite sure what he’s dealing with. Oh man, what if Minhyuk is a cop? That would be so uncool. Mark can’t go to jail, he’s very small and delicate, and always looks like he needs a roast dinner.

“You’re right, I don’t” Minhyuk nods. “But I also usually don’t live without electricity. So. Come on. Start rolling.”

It’s such a direct order, and Mark doesn’t really want to argue against him. He’s pretty sure he’s not a cop now. He knows the lingo, after all. Mark keeps his weed in a very neat case with a geometric design, next to his grinder and rolling paper, and it’s all so organized that Minhyuk lets out an ‘ _aww_ ’ when he sees it.   

“Have you even smoked before?” Mark mumbles. It’s not _cute_.

“Of course I have, Mark, I’ve lived a rich and colourful life before I met you and became a kept man who plays Destiny all day,” Minhyuk says, and that’s really the problem, because when Minhyuk says things like that, Mark’s heart starts doing the weird heart palpitations thing again.

“You never told me that,” Mark pouts.

“I’m telling you now,” he counters. “Come on, less talking. I’m going to assume you don’t know how to roll in the dark.”

“I don’t roll in general. Why would I? I literally have a bong. It’s got a picture of Scooby-Doo on it. You’ve seen it.”

Jackson got it for him, always said he was the Scooby-Doo to Mark’s Shaggy. Oh, now he’s missing Jackson. He hopes he’s having a good time in Macau with his business partner.

“I have, and don’t you ever change, you wonderful sunflower boy,” Minhyuk says, and his smile is so authentic, Mark has to look away and concentrate on turning the grinder before he does something silly.

It’s when he’s got the rolling paper in his hands, currently trying and failing to stack that Mark mutters under his breath, annoyance taking over, “Why are you so insistent on a joint if you’ve smoked before, then?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Minhyuk answers. “It’s better to shotgun with.”

It’s through an incredible display of self-control that Mark’s hand doesn’t just go limp, and scatters the weed onto the floor. “Sorry?” Mark squeaks. His fingers shake.

“Surely a veteran stoner such as yourself doesn’t need me to draw a diagram,” Minhyuk says, a teasing edge entering his voice. “But if you _insist_.” He sits up straight, making depraved hand gestures. “When a man and a woman love each other very much, and they both want to get high—”

“I know what shotgunning is,” Mark interjects, grateful that the darkening sky hides his blush. “I just…”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, Mark,” Minhyuk says, and it’s the most serious he’s been since the raid. His eyes are wide with concern.

“Oh, I don’t mind. Like. I really want to. I mean like. Only if you want to.” Mark’s waiting for Minhyuk to stop him from talking. He doesn’t. So Mark keeps talking. “Like it’ll be fun. But also hot? Um. Yeah. If you still want to! If you don’t, that’s totally fine. Haha, damn, I miss the ceiling fan. It is _warm_ in here, absolutely burning.”

Minhyuk bites his lip to suppress his laughter. “You just keep rolling there, pal, and let me know when you’ve lit up.” He glances up and down. “You’re even wearing the appropriate hoodie!”

It’s not his only weed-related hoodie, but the purple one he’s currently wearing is certainly one of his favourites. Puff, Puff, Pass is just kind of a life motto at this point, you know? It’s certainly Mark’s mantra. Though, quite honestly, he never expected to extend this part of his life to Minhyuk.

It doesn’t mean anything. That’s the important thing to remember Bros do this all the time. Definitely. Well, Mark hasn’t, but he’s not had a lot of bros before, he’s been bro-deficient. His thoughts are so concerning he’s starting to sweat through his eyeballs, so when the joint has attained the honour of being ‘smokable’, he lights it and takes about three drags in quick succession. Technically they’re smoking together but it’s his weed. He bought it from Kun with his own money. And he needs it, at this point, if he’s going to make it through the night without bursting into tears the next time Minhyuk calls him ‘kitten’.

“Hey, hey, Mr Puff Puff Pass, quit hogging that. This is a team effort,” Minhyuk demands, looking down from the couch. Mark feels oddly vulnerable on the floor right now. Man, maybe Minhyuk _is_ a cop.

“Um, how do you want to do this?” Mark asks, interspersed by his own coughing. It’s amazing how as soon as someone else is in the room he completely forgets how to smoke weed. He just defaults straight back to high schooler at their first party. “Do you want me to um…”

“Just sit on the couch, Mark,” Minhyuk orders, and Mark follows it instantly. He waits obediently in place, holding out the joint for Minhyuk, but he ignores it. He manoeuvres himself onto Mark’s lap and oh, okay, so now he’s sitting on him. That’s a thing. That’s alright. Mark thinks the sirens in his brain are starting to sound out through his mouth and gives him the joint, hoping to just have Minhyuk’s face not so… _close_.

“I don’t smoke, remember? Come on,” Minhyuk says, letting a finger trace down Mark’s throat. He gulps. “Inhale nice and deep for me.”

Mark knows how to listen to Minhyuk at least. So he does just that, presses the joint to his lips and breathes in, lets it burn against the top of his mouth, lets it curl all the way into his lungs, expanding and filling it with smoke. God, it feels _good_.

But this isn’t about him. He’s got a very pretty boy on his lap, waiting patiently, but perhaps that’s not the best descriptor, because Minhyuk makes a noise in the back of his throat, and puts his index finger down on Mark’s plush lip and leans forward.

So, yeah, in Mark’s head, this went down with a lot less… touching. That’s not the reality. Minhyuk’s mouth is consuming him, and he inhales the smoke from Mark’s lungs like he owns it. The intimacy of it all is what shocks Mark, that’s _his_ breath. It’s not even a kiss, but watching Minhyuk blow out to the ceiling, Mark feels more than a little wrecked.

“Oh,” he wheezes. “That was…”

“Did you like it? Minhyuk asks. His pupils are wide.

Mark doesn’t have a lot of thoughts at this current moment. “Yup.”

Minhyuk purses his lips. “That’s the answer you’re gonna go for? A very hot boy perched on your lap just inhaled the smoke from your mouth, and asked you if you liked it, and your only response was ‘ _yup_ ’?”

“Yup… sir.”

“Lowkey into that, but we’ll discuss that later,” Minhyuk deposits the joint between Mark’s lips again. “Inhale again. Deeper this time. I can’t feel anything.”

_Minhyuk_ can’t feel anything, but Mark… Mark can. Mark can feel about fifty different emotions in every one of his individual brain cells. Overwhelmed is putting it mildly. But this isn’t his first rodeo, and Mark isn’t about to get smoked out by someone who doesn’t even subscribe to the culture — particularly when Minhyuk has on many occasions criticized the “Legalize It 😜” sticker on Mark’s car.

He takes another drag, and now that he knows what to expect, he doesn’t panic when Minhyuk leans in. He even expects the brush of his lips against his own. And perhaps Minhyuk detects this sudden serenity, and since he’s a literal creature thriving off chaos, Minhyuk lets his hand slink away from Mark’s neck and settle in a path down his chest, then crossing the boundaries of his hoodie until he feels skin.

“Something the matter?” He exhales through the slightest gap in his teeth, too preoccupied in smiling. Minhyuk’s hand isn’t even doing anything, it’s just _there_. As if to say he owns this now. Like, fine, maybe Minhyuk’s intentions were all honourable and pure and all he wanted to do was smoke, but then why was he attempting to boobgrab Mark?

Of course, Minhyuk was more than welcome. Mark just wasn’t exactly sure why he wanted to.

“Everything’s fine,” Mark wheezes. “And with you and the family?”

Minhyuk gazes at him for a long time, not even bothering to answer the question. It’s apparently so exhausting that he smokes himself this time, temporarily forgoing the shotgunning. Mark wasn’t quite prepared for the display. When their mouths were connected, Mark was solely focused on how it felt, the heat of the smoke, the taste of Minhyuk’s lips, all senses enhanced by the chemicals pounding through his blood. But it’s totally different to _see_ it.

Minhyuk’s eyelids flutter shut as he inhales, embers drift off the end. And then he pauses, and Mark doesn’t even realize he’s stopped breathing as well. He looks… well, he looks _hot_ as hell, all sharp angles and light hair and Mark feels absolutely ravenous. Decides he isn’t going to let the ether take this from him. He pulls Minhyuk down, captures his mouth and inhales — and this time it’s messy, saliva swipes across Mark’s mouth. He pauses only to breathe in the air around him.

Minhyuk is, dare he say, impressed. “Oh, you’re not such a demure little kitten are you?” And then, he has to do something horribly obscene, obviously, and he licks his lips. Slowly. Like he’s savouring the taste of Mark’s spit.

Mark really cannot emphasize how unprepared he is for this. He woke up this morning, put on his pants like every other guy. And then at some point during the day, he stopped being like every other guy because now he’s just kind of kissed the smoke out of Minhyuk’s mouth. So now he’s that guy. He’s a guy who kissed Minhyuk. And Minhyuk is so cool that at work he doesn’t even wait in line to use the copy machine, just bursts in and says “move, I’m gay”.

He wishes someone could have informed him this was about to happen, like maybe when he asks Siri for the weather, she’d reply with “make sure to throw on extra deodorant, you’re getting to second base before midnight.” Just anything to prepare himself for this, because then maybe he could enjoy this moment more.

“What are you thinking, kitten?” Minhyuk asks, tapping the side of his face with his other hand. “You look all contemplative.”

“I like this,” Mark says, more sincere than he anticipated, and when he says it, it’s already too late. He can’t take it back, not when Minhyuk’s eyes widen with curiosity. “It’s um… you’re really… pretty.”

“I’m pretty?” Minhyuk enunciates each syllable.

Mark’s mouth is dry. “Yeah. Um.” He pauses. “But not just. That. You’re also. Um.” Come on, Mark, this is your time to shine. Tell him about how beautiful he is, how funny he is, how he lights up your life and every room he’s in. “You’re a good tank.”

If Minhyuk bursts out laughing in the middle of the most emotionally vulnerable Mark’s been in years, Mark will have no choice but to dye his hair and live out the remainder of his life as a rice farmer. “I’m a good tank?”

“Yeah, when we play Overwatch,” Mark says, figuring he’s already fucked up and might as well salvage his own sinking ship. “It’s um, it’s really cool that you play as D.Va so I can be support.”

“That’s very nice of you, Mark. I didn’t know you had such emotional depth after all that hair dye,” Minhyuk says, and then drops his face in the curve of Mark’s neck, inhaling deeply. “You smell like Dorito’s. It’s nice.”

Well, it’s most likely because Mark washes his clothes based on whether the stains overtake the base colour of the fabric, but if that’s the adjective Minhyuk chooses to use, sure, Mark can roll with nice. He raises a hand and cautiously runs his hands up and down the back of Minhyuk’s head, fiddling with the hair there. For all Minhyuk’s pet-names, he’s really more catlike than Mark thinks he ever is.

“I’m gonna bite you,” Minhyuk announces. When Mark doesn’t respond, Minhyuk looks up, his eyes heavy-lidded, his smile dopey. “Any comments on that?”

“You seem fairly confident in your decision, I wouldn’t want to kick up an unnecessary fuss.”

Minhyuk snorts. “I’m going to bite you extra hard for that.”

And Minhyuk keeps true to his promise, his teeth pinch into the skin of Mark’s neck and he winces - and then Minhyuk follows it up with lavish licks of his tongue, and yeah, okay, this is decidedly not just guys being bros anymore. Mark finds it hard to really be concerned about this new development, he’s far more preoccupied with suppressing the noise that uncurls from his chest. The hand brushing over the skin of Mark’s abdomen tightens, goes higher.

“Minhyuk,” Mark whimpers. “Fuck.”

“Mmm, I told myself I wouldn’t do this but I really want to,” Minhyuk mutters into the flesh that he sucks on again. He giggles, after, like he said something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Do what?” Mark asks. Heat floods through his body, and the weed just makes pleasure indistinct and effervescent, like the entire air around him is just designed to make him feel like he’s floating on air.

Minhyuk snorts. “Obviously I’ve wanted to fool around for ages.”

“ _Oh_.” That’s real neat.

“Around the time you were posting thirst trap selfies to the Overwatch Discord server, I mean what excuse do you have to be shirtless in bed?” Minhyuk pulls his head back. His lips are bright red. Sticky. Mark wants to kiss him. Really badly. “But I restrained myself, you know.”

Oh, Mark really isn’t prepared for this conversation. He’s not lucid enough. He forces himself to look up into Minhyuk’s eyes, and finds himself gulping at the desire contained within them. “Why?”

And Minhyuk leans forward at the exact same moment his head drifts downwards, toying with the band of Mark’s underwear. “I wouldn’t want to break you.”

When Windows crashes, it makes this sound. All discordant and worrying. The most concerning of all jingles, it’s like if a piano could have an anxiety disorder. Mark’s never really identified with Windows, he’s more into Linux, you know, like a _real_ man. Nevertheless, when Minhyuk says that, Mark feels his whole brain just shut down.

A possible explanation for this total neurological collapse could be the sudden rush of blood to his nether regions. Well, no, that’s putting it way too classy, and there’s nothing _classy_ about this situation. His dick is hard, and from the way Minhyuk is leaning back, grinning, it’s becoming clear that he knows. Well. It would be hard for him not to know.

He wiggles in place. Mark groans. It’s not a soft sound.

“How much of the joint is left?” Minhyuk asks.

“The what?”

“The joint,” he repeats. The corners of his eyes curve up in mirth.

“I, uh, don’t know,” Mark says feebly. “I kinda lost track of it.” He shuffles around the corner of the couch, digs into the crevices, and frowns. “Um, yeah, I lost it. Can you get up? Maybe it rolled on the floor—”

Minhyuk shoves Mark against the back of the couch with the force of his hand against his chest. “Do you really need more weed?”

The obvious answer is “hell yes, why not”. The answer that Mark thinks Minhyuk is looking for is:

“Um, no?”

Minhyuk giggles, his laughter higher than normal. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m not really in the mood to get up.” He shifts closer, till he’s pressed on top of Mark, enough to hear his heartbeat. “What are you thinking about?”

It’s probably the weed that informs his answer. It’s a very suave and sexy, “ _You_.” Like it came out of some movie with Ryan Gosling. Like Mark actually had any ‘game’ so to speak. But regardless, Minhyuk is very happy with this answer, and cups Mark’s face, fingertips dancing across his jawline.

“I’ve decided I’m going to kiss you.”

Mark swallows. “That’s totally legit.” And then he doesn’t say anything else because he has a tongue down his throat.

Not to say Minhyuk is a bad kisser. Aggressive? Yes. Dominating? Absolutely. Sloppy? _Incredibly_. But he’s also passionate, and it’s hard not to get swept away in the heat of the kiss. Minhyuk swallows each of his moans, savouring the flavour. The hand stroking Mark’s side rides higher and higher, and Mark? Mark is just sitting there, enjoying the ride.

He gets the distinct impression that Minhyuk enjoys taking control, and far be it from Mark to say otherwise. He’s about thirty percent certain that what he’s currently experiencing is a very detailed wet dream, or perhaps a beta version of the new Oculus Rift Twink Simulator. He’s not going to ask too many questions, he’s just going to enjoy the feeling of Minhyuk’s tongue as it swipes across Mark’s lips, followed by a punctuated bite.

“Fuck,” Minhyuk exhales, his breath fanning over Mark’s face. “I forgot how good making out while high was. Is this why you smoke so often?”

“Yes,” Mark says. “That’s exactly why. That’s the only reason.”

Minhyuk’s other hand finds its way into Mark’s hair and tugs, bending Mark’s head backwards. “When have you got to work again?”

Well, since Mark refuses to level up the corporate ladder because it means less time for Overwatch, the answer is his next shift is unfortunately soon. “Tomorrow night. The bank wants me to give call support to the Australian clients, so, it’s gonna be late for me.”

“That’s so sad,” Minhyuk states, emotionlessly. “Wear a scarf.”

“Why- _oh_.” And then Minhyuk is attacking his neck again, this time with less and less precision as the weed settles deeper and deeper into his consciousness. Doesn’t mean it isn’t still hot as hell. Fuck, Minhyuk’s mouth is _incredible,_ his tongue should not be able to function like that—

“Take this off,” Minhyuk demands, grappling back. “Take off this dumb stoner hoodie.”

“I can’t,” Mark says, almost whining.

“And why is that?”

Well, the answer is that Mark is most comfortable when he’s impervious to all forms of attack. What he goes for is the far more rational reason. “I’m not wearing anything underneath it.”

“Is that not the _point_?” And now Minhyuk is _pouting_ , and that’s absolutely deadly, like a shot of cyanide straight to Mark’s lungs, and he immediately throws his hoodie off. It lands in the vague direction of the window. It’s so dark outside — Minhyuk is entirely illuminated by the assorted glowsticks in the apartment from raves bygone.

“Nice,” Minhyuk purrs, devoting his full attention to stroking up and down Mark’s chest. “Very nice.”

Mark whimpers at that, unconsciously canting his hips up, seeking the friction of Minhyuk’s body.

“Oh? What’s that?” Damn, Minhyuk really doesn’t miss a _thing_. If only he was this perceptive, an hour into their raids. “Oh, do you like when I compliment you?”

“Maaaaaybe?” Mark says, all really cool and noncommittally, like it means nothing to him. Ugh, he really killed that. He’s the _master_ of seduction.

Minhyuk’s brows furrow in thought. “You know, this makes so much sense. Is that why you like playing as a healer? You like when everyone thanks you, says what a good job you do? Are you just a walking praise kink?”

“I am _not_ ,” Mark says, and then decides he’s picking the wrong side here. “I mean, if I was, does that mean anything to you?”

“Are you playing hard to get, kitten?” Minhyuk says, and his grin seems menacing now. “Do you really think you’re in a position to do that right now?”

Yeah, Mark has no idea how he’s getting out of this situation alive. Minhyuk could probably eat his dick if he wanted to. Like, and Mark would let him, probably, but it would probably cause problems later down the line? What about his hypothetical children?

“God, you zone out way too much, hello, Mark?” Minhyuk waves his hand in front of his face. “Can I get your attention again?”

“Right, yes, sorry,” Mark answers immediately. Yes. Minhyuk. Blonde, skinny, Scorpio, likes piña coladas and getting caught in the rain— nope, getting distracted again, right, yes, this is Minhyuk and he’s currently sitting right above Mark’s dick, one hand on his hip, the other tracing lines on his collarbones.

“That’s a good boy,” Minhyuk purrs. Mark’s moan is loud and unabashed — and Minhyuk looks far too damn pleased with himself.      

Maybe he likes hearing Minhyuk say pretty things to him, sue him, Mark likes to be told he’s a good boy, and no one ever does it enough. Like, he’s trying his best, okay?

His high mellows out. The back of Mark’s neck sizzles, right down to his spine, his whole body feeling like electrocuted jelly. God, he feels so good, and Minhyuk just feels even better, makes him quiver and shiver in all the best ways. Fuck, he’s never gonna be able to recover from this.

Minhyuk’s fingers trace a delicate path down his abdomen, over his hipbones, and to the waistband of his shorts. He dips inside, but doesn’t intrude further, carefully observing Mark’s facial expression. Which at present is probably furrowed in concentration, trying to avoid cumming in sixteen seconds. “Remember how we met?”

“Yeah,” Mark wheezes, because now Minhyuk’s hand is teasing the head of his dick. Cool. Cool, this is fine. He’s ascending. “We were playing Team Fortress 2, weren’t we?”

“Mmm, that’s right,” Minhyuk says, all so calm and serene, like he isn’t currently jerking someone off. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah it was- _oh_ , yeah, great,” Mark stammers.   

"I remember the first time I heard your voice,” Minhyuk continues, “God, it was so _deep_. It's even better in person, you know, how's that even possible? I bet you sound so good when you come."

Which might be in about the next heartbeat.

“Even the way you moan, it’s so low and sexy, you should be in porn or something with a voice like that, it’s so hot. You do phone calls for a living right? I wonder how many people just ring your work cause they wanna talk to you. It’s a good thing I never bothered to find out what bank you work for or I’d call all the time just to hear you speak, kitten.”

Mark did indeed ‘do phone calls’ for a living, and fielding the bank’s call center was a minefield of annoyances and technical difficulties but there was some joy to it. After a long day of sitting on a chair with a headset strapped to his head, looking at a computer screen, there was nothing Mark loved more than putting on a headset and looking at a TV screen instead.

But now he’ll have to quit, almost definitely, Minhyuk ruined his whole career with one statement and it ended with _‘kitten’_.

“Oh, you _like_ that, don’t you?” Minhyuk says, grinning. He’s a demon, he’s a literal fanged demon, and this fanged demon currently enchanted his dick with evil magic. “I can literally feel how hard you’re getting from that.”

_I’m hard because you’re jerking me off_ , is what Mark would like to say. What he ends up doing is just kind of whining. Luckily, Minhyuk is familiar in the language.

“See, and then you do something like that, and I just am so struck by how _pretty_ you are? You’re very pretty, aren’t you?”

Mark nods. He’s down to agree with anything right now. Minhyuk could tell him the moon is a government conspiracy and Mark would immediately sign the change.org petition. His hands dare to curl around Minhyuk’s waist, creeping underneath his shirt, and his skin is warm, spreading heat through his fingers.                            

 "You're so dainty,” Minhyuk’s voice lowers. He leans closer. “I wanna treat you like my mannequin, keep you in my house and dress you up so I can enjoy just how pretty you are, just for me.”

Oh, Mark might really just have to quit the bank for that.

“You're so pretty aren't you and you like being called that, don’t lie to me kitten, I can see it from the way you're begging for me, you’re just a pretty boy."

“Fuck, Minhyuk,” Mark swears and crashes their lips together. Minhyuk’s rhythm stutters as he’s overwhelmed by the kiss. It’s kinda nice to know that Mark has _some_ surprises, can bring something to the table.

“Like, I knew you were hot because you keep posting those thirst trap selfies, but hey man, I legit thought you were a catfish for like the first month.” Minhyuk sounds breathless. “But, fuck, I wasn’t actually ready for _this_. How do you look so damn delicious? I just want to eat you.”

Mark’s spared from answering by Minhyuk resuming his rhythm, stroking his dick, slow and torturous. His nails sink into Minhyuk’s back.

"Kitten, I'd love for you to fuck me but I don't think you'd be able to handle it,” Minhyuk informs him, all solemn. “I'd break you, you'd never be the same. You'd have to quit your job, bid farewell to your parents cause all you'll ever want for the rest of your life is _me_."

“That sounds absolutely fi— _fuck_.”

“You have _neighbours_ , keep it down,” Minhyuk hisses, but there’s that dopey smile again. “Mm, it’s a pity though, I think it would have been so fun.”

Mark really, _really_ wants to disagree, is ready to full on plead his case, like Minhyuk’s the paralegal here, but if this is what’s at stake, Mark is prepared to defend his own dick capabilities in front of a jury of his peers. Just. Not right now. Because he’s quite literally about to come any second now.

It’s just so _good_. The weed leaves his body limp and so _responsive_. The slick of precum is just causing Minhyuk’s hand to glide up and down. Every nerve in his body is just feeling everything, and Minhyuk’s smiling throughout it all, like this is just pure joy to him. That’s a really nice thought, actually, that maybe Minhyuk likes this, that he wanted this.

“Minhyuk,” Mark says, panting. “Does this… does this change anything?”

Minhyuk stares. It’s probably not that long but considering they are inches apart, it may as well have been hours. “Are you… really asking me this right now? When we’re both about to come?”

“...Yeah?” Well, when else would he? When they’re playing League of Legends? Ha, unlikely.

Minhyuk bites his lip, and it’s so swollen and wet that Mark has to suppress a groan. “Would it make you feel better if I told you this was nothing? That it was just a bro thing? We were bored, the lights were out and we fooled around?”

The thought sets something hollow in Mark’s heart. “Oh, I mean…” he trails off, staring down at Minhyuk’s hand, the one wrapped around his dick, since that’s somehow less intimate than looking into his eyes right now. “If that’s how you feel. It’s fine, yeah.”

“Hey. Mark.”

Mark looks up. Minhyuk’s just so beautiful it’s hard to handle.

“Do you want this… _us_ to change? It doesn’t have to mean nothing. It could be… something.” And then Minhyuk’s face scrunches up. “God, Mark, can we have the rest of this conversation when my hand is not wrapped around your dick?”

“I’m just kinda shy, you know,” Mark mumbles.

“You’re adorable, I hate you,” Minhyuk sighs. “Yes, fine, okay, we’ll work something out afterwards, I promise, now shut up, I can’t kiss you when you keep talking.”

 Sex is a lot like Mortal Kombat. It involves two people in various states of undress in the same space, there’s a lot of grunting and moaning, sometimes it hurts but it’s all worth it, and also, Scorpion is there.

It’s not like Mortal Kombat, because in that game, there’s a very aggressive announcer that says ‘Finish Him’. And in reality, all Mark has is Minhyuk who whispers into his ear, “Don’t you want to be a good boy and come for me?”. And that’s how Mark finishes.

With considerable less guts and blood. But it’s still as satisfying. Perhaps even more.

Minhyuk’s such a resourceful person, he’s already jacked himself off in the time it takes Mark’s eyes to remember how to work. He flops half against Mark, and half against the couch, and inhales.

“Good game!” Mark cheers, before he can stop himself. That definitely wasn’t something he should have said. Minhyuk is definitely going to smother him in his sleep now. Well, he deserves it. At least he fulfilled his bucket list: he has a lava lamp, and he got to try shotgunning!

Minhyuk pulls back. His face is slicked with sweat, and his expression is entirely blank. He’s _judging_. And then, his eyes crinkle up and he laughs, and it’s such a _sweet_ sound. “You’re awful. Come on, let’s go chill in your room, I had my Switch here the whole time.”

**Author's Note:**

> have to thank shauna for agreeing to beta something so cursed, you wonderful sunflower. i owe this incredible title to hyb. and of course, this would not exist for the wonderful almay, thank you for introducing me to mark, i guess, i think (yes).
> 
> comments will be eaten and savoured 💕. you can find me on:  
> \- [twitter](https://twitter.com/minhyukwithagun/)  
> \- [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/minhyukwithagun/)  
> \- under your local drawbridge
> 
> thanks for reading 💕


End file.
